


The Eighth Item

by elessar2931



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Coffeeshop AU, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elessar2931/pseuds/elessar2931
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is the anonymous owner of <i>Gabriel’s</i>, a cozy little coffee shop on the corner of a busy city street. He’s been content to serve up smiles and happiness in a cup for the past six years, no connections and no friends. Then, one day, Dean walks in, and the two quickly form a friendship. As they grow steadily closer, Castiel helps Dean live the life he always wanted, and in doing so his own life becomes something he never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Week 1**

Sunlight shone in through the shop's floor-to-ceiling front windows, making the freshly wiped tables gleam and the linoleum tiled floor sparkle. The air in the coffee shop smelled of baked goods and caffeine, just the way Castiel knew all of his best customers liked it; his regulars often remarked on the heavenly scent as they bustled in, carrying various packages or clipboards or whatever items they needed for the day. His shop was in the middle of the city, a tiny thing on a busy street corner in the business section of town. Most of his customers claimed they love the shop for that very reason: it is a quiet solace to remove themselves to amidst a dizzying environment of responsibilities, deadlines and duties. 

He swept the front porch of dead leaves and twigs; it was October, which meant it was smack in the middle of the busy season, a time that he hated and loved at the same time. He loved the money, but hated the hustle and bustle of all of the people. They came for warmth and peace but only brought him a perpetual chilliness and sense of discomfort. Though, he thought as he moved back indoors and out of the growing cold, at least he had a place to be, a place to belong. And it was right here, behind this counter, serving up smiles and warm treats to those who needed them. And that's better than anything he's had before. 

Castiel crossed the small room and flipped the switch on the neon 'OPEN' sign, peering out of the window. It looked to be a gorgeous day, so he didn’t need to worry about getting an early start on the coffee and biscuits seeing as most people liked to get theirs when it was chilly outside. 

It was around seven thirty before he even started. Just as he fired up the oven and slipped the biscuits in, the bell on the front door jingled, the sound of shuffling feet on the welcome mat echoing in through the doorway. 

"Hello?" A deep voice called from the front, obviously worried that no one was in the shop. 

"Yes, I'll be right there. My apologies." Castiel hurriedly wiped the oil from his hands and rounded the corner to the main area, where there stood a man of about thirty, wearing a worn leather jacket, a black t-shirt and blue jeans. He had light brown hair that looked blonde where the sunlight hit, and his lips, stretched over a glorious smile, were the perfect shade of pink. It was a bit distracting. “What can I do for you?”

"Could I get a coffee? Regular." He sniffed the air and closed his eyes. "Mmm, and whatever that awesome smell is." 

"Absolutely." He quickly jotted down the order and went to work. As he rang the man up, he attempted small talk, something he was particularly horrible at. "This is the first time I've seen you in my shop." The man's bill rang up as $3.56 in total, including the biscuit. 

He glanced up from rummaging through his wallet. “Hm? Oh, yeah." Castiel handed him the bill and offered him a pen to sign it with. "I've never been to one of these before. Figured today was as good a day as any to try it out." 

"You've never been to a coffee shop before?" Castiel took the pen and receipt back from him and set them aside, staring at the man incredulously. 

"Nope. But I'm trying to do new things, you know? See what I've missed in life." The man looked down at his coffee for a beat, then looked back up and into Castiel's eyes, smiling lopsidedly. Castiel couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were the most magnificent shade of green. "Cheers." He drank from the cup and smiled widely, looking at it with appraisal. "Damn, that's good. I‘ve been missing out." Castiel smiled and possibly blushed, but he can't remember exactly because at that moment the man leaned forward over the counter, getting into his space. He smelled like the oil of an engine mixed with old leather. "So, see you again tomorrow?" And then he was pushing off of the counter, taking his biscuit and the rest of his coffee, and heading for the door. Castiel heard the jingle of the door opening and closing, and he watched the man as he made his way down the sidewalk and crossed the street, the biscuit hanging out of the side of his mouth. 

***

“You know,” Castiel heard his voice before he heard the bell. When he looked up, startled, the man was slipping a ratty dark blue scarf off of his neck and pulling off black gloves. “I don’t think I ever got your name.” The man set his belongings down on the nearest little wooden table and leaned his palms on the counter.

“And I didn’t get yours.” 

The man smiled and extended a hand. “Dean.”

“Castiel,” he said, accepting his hand and shaking it.

“Wait,” Dean’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You’re not the owner of the shop?”

“No, I am.” Castiel let go of his hand and looked away, picking up the rag from the sink and busying himself by wiping down the area around the coffee machines.

“So, who’s Gabriel?”

Castiel stilled, but didn’t look up. “My brother.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause in which neither of them looked at each other or said anything. 

Castiel was no longer wiping the counters; he stood completely still, staring down into the sink water, while he waited for Dean to ask more questions. None came. Instead, Dean cleared his throat and Castiel could hear him moving away from the counter. He wished someone else would come in and break the horribly awkward silence, but of course, the door remained shut. He looked up in time to see Dean wrapping his scarf back around his neck. “Would you like anything?”

“No, that’s ok.” He worked a glove back over his hand. “I just came in to say hi. I really gotta get to work. Nice seeing you, Cas.” Dean drew his jacket tightly around himself and hesitated a bit before pushing open the door and stepping out. 

A blast of freezing cold air rushed inside and hit Castiel right in the face. Before he even knew what he was doing, he grabbed a cup and a lid, poured some coffee into it, and was rushing outside. 

It was practically polar. It hadn’t been this cold yesterday. The wind blew around him as he scanned the small crowd of people for a brown jacket and dirty blonde hair. “Dean!” He still hadn’t spotted him, and a few of the people around him stopped to stare as he pushed his way through them, coffee in hand and still wearing his apron. He turned, still searching, and finally found him on the opposite side of the street, huddled against the wind and making his way down the sidewalk. “Dean!” 

Castiel stepped up to the curb, looking both ways before running across the street. “Dean!” This time, Dean turned around, and his eyes widened in surprise as he recognized who had been calling his name. 

“Cas?”

“I brought you a coffee. Sorry, the biscuits weren’t done yet.” Dean said nothing, but just stared dumbly at Castiel and the coffee now in his hands, warming his fingers. To answer Dean’s questioning stare, Castiel simply said, “It was cold,” but Dean didn’t move or change his expression.

He shuffled his feet a bit before deciding that this was actually really embarrassing and that he should probably take his leave before making an even bigger fool of himself. “Well, enjoy.” He turned and left, crossing the street again and walking straight to his shop. Once he got to the door, he turned around to see if Dean was still there, but he was gone.

***

He woke early the next morning and couldn’t fall back to sleep. His mind kept wandering to Dean. He wondered if he would want to come back, now that he’d made a complete ass of himself. He cursed himself for being so short with him yesterday about Gabriel—he didn’t have to be so defensive and closed off. He’d probably ruined what could have potentially been his first real friendship in years.

He got out of bed and took a shower when he realized he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. It was half past four when he left for the shop, and still dark out. He immediately got to work baking and brewing coffee once he got into the shop, trying to work off some of his self-inflicted stress. He even made a batch of cookies and a pie. By opening time, he was completely ready for the day, and he had some items laid out that weren’t even on the menu. 

Half an hour and several customers later, the door opened and Castiel looked up to find, to his surprise Dean. His cheeks were flushed and his hair tousled by the wind. 

He pulled his gloves off and stopped a few feet away from the counter. “Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean stepped up to the counter and cleared his throat. That seemed to be what he did in awkward situations. “So, thanks. You know, for the coffee.”

“My pleasure. What can I get you?” Castiel almost sighed of relief. It seemed Dean didn’t think he was a complete jerk. 

Dean searched his eyes, but he tried his best not to look back, just because he knew it would be hard to look away again. “One coffee, regular, black.” Castiel set to work quickly, determined to make this the best goddamn cup of coffee he’d ever brewed. “Cas?”

“Yes?”

“What’s that?” Dean was pointing to the apple pie Castiel had baked that morning and staring at it in what Castiel could only describe as wonder. 

“It’s apple pie. Why? Are you allergic? I can remove it from the counter if you’d like.”

“Dude,” Dean looked into his eyes again, his own wide and full of something Castiel couldn’t identify. “How much?”

“How much, you mean… to buy it? I’m not sure. I just baked it this morning because I got here so early. Um...” But before he could say anything else, Dean had pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and slapped it down onto the counter. He snatched up the pie and grabbed a fork and napkin, too, before turning to sit at the nearest table. “Uh,” Castiel didn’t quite know what to say. “Dean?”

Dean ignored him, cutting straight into the pie with the side of his fork and raking out a piece, admiring it before popping it into his mouth. A moan of pure ecstasy escaped him and he threw his head back, slumping back against the chair. “Cas,” his eyes opened blearily and he pinned Castiel with a stare that sent chills down his spine. “Did you make this?”

“Yes. This morning, I baked it before opening.”

“Jesus,” he ate another forkful. “I haven’t had pie this good since-“ he didn’t finish his sentence, instead staring down at the pie and smiling faintly. He took another bite and moaned again, causing Castiel to shiver. “Jesus,” he said again reverently.

“I’m glad you like it, Dean, but I can’t possibly take all this money for it.” 

Dean waved him off. “For the coffee yesterday and today, too.”

“I gave you yesterday’s for free, and coffee only costs $2.50.”

Dean didn’t respond and instead continued eating the pie in bliss. 

Castiel rounded the counter and came to sit next to Dean at the small table. Every now and then small noises of pleasure would escape Dean’s throat and Castiel would feel his cheeks flush. It was eight thirty in the morning, one of the lulls in Castiel’s typical weekday. A Few people passed by the window, some on bikes, some on the phone, some running to get to where they needed to be. The sky was growing steadily darker, threatening to rain, the people outside pulling their jackets closer around them and opening their umbrellas as the first few drops fell. But inside, Cas and Dean sat comfortably in the warmth. 

A man came in with an umbrella, dripping wet and grumbling about his new shoes getting ruined. As Castiel tended to him, Dean attempted to push the rest of the impossible pie into his mouth, but seemed to have trouble swallowing it. When the man left, Castiel brought Dean another cup of coffee, setting it in front of him, and Dean took it and used it to help him wash the pie down.

Dean thanked him, but Castiel only nodded in response and watched as he took tentative sips. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel busied himself by inspecting his nail beds. “I want to apologize for being so short with you yesterday. I— I’m not used to speaking to people about my life, and especially not about my family.”

Dean sniffed and shrugged. “I shouldn’t have asked, man. It’s your own personal shit. If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t ask.”

“Thank you, Dean.” 

Dean just nodded and they sat, quiet, until he said tentatively, “I’m really glad I came here.”

“What?”

He cleared his throat and glanced around awkwardly. “I, uh. I’ve got this thing. A list. Sort of like a bucket list, but sort of not. I don’t know, Sam told me I should make one and I did, and now I’m trying to do all the stuff I’ve got on it and it’s a crap ton of shit but, you know, I’m trying at least. Well, anyway. You were on my list, Cas.” His eyes met Castiel’s at that, and they were green and deep and Castiel could see pain in them, in the way they turned down slightly at the corners. The smile stretching across Dean’s face tried to mask the emotion in his eyes, but Castiel could see it, like a curtain of fog settling over his irises, dulling their brightness.

“ _I_ was on your list?” 

“Well,” Dean scratched the back of his head, the haze disintegrating from his eyes as he smiled lopsidedly. “No, not _you_ , your shop. _Any _coffee shop. I’d never gotten coffee from a shop before and Sam told me it was required if I wanted to be considered human or something.”__

__Castiel nodded. “Sam would be right about that.”_ _

__Dean chuckled. “Well, anyway. I saw your shop, figured _what the hell_ and came in. And I’m really happy I did.”_ _

__Castiel smiled down at his hands. “I am, too.”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Week 2**

Castiel pulled the bag of coffee beans off of the shelf and replaced them where they belonged, taking note as he went of what kind it was and where he’d put it. He was multitasking, taking inventory and reorganizing at the same time. It was a Monday night, past closing, and he really ought to be heading to his apartment next door, but he wanted to get this done. 

Dean hadn’t come in since Friday morning, and he was starting to wonder if he’d gotten tired of him. Castiel had hoped he would come in that morning since the weekend was over—maybe Dean was just busy on Saturdays and Sundays. But then he remembered Dean had only needed to visit a coffee shop one time for the item to be complete on his list, anyway. He had probably only been coming back because he thought Castiel was expecting him. So Castiel distracted himself with everything and anything else he could and tried not to think about him. 

He had been working for God only knows how long when he heard a rhythmic tap on the coffee shop’s glass door. He ignored it, so close to finishing he didn’t want to get sidetracked. The knocking grew louder and more insistent, losing the beat it had had just a moment before. Sighing, Castiel set down his notebook and pen and the bag of French vanilla coffee beans he’d been inspecting, and headed to the front of the shop.

A very large, very intimidating man loomed on the other side of the glass, his figure casting a long shadow across the floor from the moonlight behind him. Cas couldn’t quite make out his face, and he approached slowly, turning the lights on before getting too close to the door.

That’s when he noticed the shorter man standing beside the other, one he immediately recognized. He had been standing off to the side, behind the sign Castiel had put up in the window advertising a free pumpkin spice coffee on Halloween for anyone in a costume.

Despite himself, Castiel’s chest expanded, and he opened the door and gave both men a genuine smile. ”Dean?”

“Cas! Hey, man, sorry for coming here so late, but we saw the light on in back and I wanted to stop in while we had the chance.”

“Certainly,” Castiel stepped aside and ushered them in. He didn’t care that it was past eleven, he was just glad to see Dean again. And it was strange for him, wanting to see someone and talk with them. He hadn’t even properly socialized in years. He hadn’t felt it was necessary, and he just generally preferred his solitude. There was something about Dean, though. For the first time, he _wanted_ someone to know him, and he wanted to know Dean in turn. He wanted to have this connection. And what was the harm in a simple friendship? 

“This is Sam, my brother. Sammy, this is Cas. Makes the best coffee on the East Coast.” Castiel jolted forward as Dean slapped him on the back, grinning from ear to ear.

He blushed, but Sam just rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. “It’s Sam. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. Dean won’t shut up about your biscuits. And don’t get him started about your pie.”

Dean moaned and dramatically put a hand over his heart.. “Cas, you have _got_ to give us that recipe.”

Castiel beamed and nodded, walking behind the counter and pulling out his folder full of recipes. He flipped past the entrees and snacks and went straight to the desserts, locating the apple pie and handing it to Sam. “You can keep that one. I have another copy.”

“Seriously?” 

“Of course. I don’t need it. And besides, this way you’ll be able to make it whenever Dean visits you.”

Neither of the men in front of him reacted, Sam staring down at the paper in his hands and Dean just focusing his attention to his feet. He had said something wrong, he could feel it, but he didn’t know what. He was about to suggest they all sit for coffee to break the heavy silence when Dean piped up.

“Uh. I gotta use the bathroom.”

“Oh, sure. It’s up the stairs, a bit and to your left.” 

Dean nodded curtly and headed off swiftly, taking the steps two at a time, leaving Cas and Sam alone in awkward silence.

“Sam, please. Have a seat. Would you like anything to drink or eat?” He started pulling cups and plates down from the cupboard, sugar from the bag and cream from the fridge—anything to distract from the deafening quiet.

Sam coughed. “No, thanks, Cas. Um… Okay, listen.” He looked around as if to make sure Dean wasn’t eavesdropping and he lowered his voice. “I need to tell you something.”

Cas stilled, raising his wary eyes to meet Sam’s. “What?”

Another cough and aversion of the eyes. “It’s Dean. He—did he—“ he huffed and ran his hands down his face, then back up and through his long dark hair. “Do you know about Dean’s list?”

Castiel furrowed his brows. “Yes. He told me the other day.”

Sam stilled, his eyes narrowing.“So you know then?”

“Know what?”

“About Dean.”

“What about him?”

Sam gave him a blank look and his face crumbled. He sighed and flopped back in his chair, drumming a beat on his leg nervously before closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly. Then he looked up at Cas and said quietly, “You were the first.”

Castiel’s heart rate picked up. He had no idea what Sam was talking about and he was starting to feel like this whole thing was a set up or a trick or _something_ , he just didn’t know which part. He glanced around nervously and returned his gaze to Sam. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I want to thank you, Cas.” He sighed and continued before Castiel could ask what he had done to deserve thanks. “You’ve really helped Dean out a lot. Your coffee shop is the first thing he completed on his list. And now he’s on a roll. Feeding the homeless, donating to a shelter, getting the paint on his car redone. Hell, yesterday he donated two-hundred bucks to this charity called Random Acts that I’d never even heard of, just ‘cause he felt like it. He’s gotten to cross off three of his items already. I’ve never seen him so… proactive. You kicked it off, and it’s really important to him, and I just wanna say thanks.”

Castiel’s smile was small but Sam caught it and grinned back, and just then Dean came barreling back down the stairs, bursting into the room.

“Your bathroom smells like lilacs.”

“Thank you.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Dude, you do that on _purpose?_ ”

Cas just chuckled and shook his head, and Sam rolled his eyes; he seemed to do that a lot. 

“Well, nice to meet you, Cas!” Sam stuck out his hand for Cas to grab, but Dean came forward and pushed it down.

“Whoa, whoa, wait. Don’t you want a coffee or something first? We just got here!”

“Well, Cas was probably busy when we interrupted him, we should let him get back to it.”

“No, it’s fine, Sam. If you’d like I could make you a coffee for the road.”

He smiled. “That sounds amazing, thank you.”

Castiel gave them their coffees for free, and before they left Sam shook his hand and said sincerely, “Thanks again, Cas,” giving him a significant look before turning away and heading for the door.

Dean promised to come back tomorrow.

***

And he did. He came back every single day that week, ordering the same thing and sitting at his corner table while Cas attended to other customers. It was a busy week, the one right before Halloween, and most of his visitors came in ordering his special Pumpkin Spice Lattés. Dean didn’t seem to mind just sitting and watching Castiel work, and it made Cas wonder what Dean actually did outside of the coffee shop. He had mentioned work a couple times before, but he never said what he did or even who he worked for. And he seemed to have such abnormal hours, able to come in each morning at eight for two hours, sometimes coming in the afternoon for a quick fix of caffeine before leaving again, and on Fridays staying from nine to noon, just talking or sitting, watching the steady stream of visitors flow in and out. He even brought a book this week. _Cat’s Cradle_ , if Castiel recalled correctly.

But Castiel figured it wasn’t his place to ask why he had all this free time. Maybe he was the President of some big shot company and he had all this time off because all he had to do was go in for meetings and to fire people. Or however that worked. 

In any case, Castiel was happy, because Dean’s job meant Dean’s hours, and Dean’s hours meant he could come in every morning. And that’s just what Castiel had grown to expect and like.

***

“Cas!” It was Saturday around noon and Dean burst into the shop, carrying an envelope and a set of car keys in his hands. Castiel assumed the bell on the door just didn’t like ringing for Dean, because it still went off when other patrons entered, but for some reason Castiel always knew Dean had arrived without even hearing it go off.

Dean had been rushing into the shop, but stopped short when he realized there were three others in line ahead of him. When it was his turn to order, he was about to say something, leaning over the glass as if about to whisper, but one of Castiel’s regulars, a man named Crowley, walked in, dressed in an all black suit fit and tailored perfectly to his form. Dean yanked himself away, blushing slightly and rubbing the back of his head. He coughed into his hand and tried to look casual, but Crowley just raised one eyebrow at him and huffed. He turned his attention to Cas, an amused smile on his face. “Well, don’t mind me, love. Take all the time you need.”

Dean’s blush deepened and he cleared his throat, stuttering, “Uh, I’ll just have one of your biscuits.”

Castiel gave a curt nod and tried not to smile. “Certainly.” 

As he served a chuckling Crowley, more people began to flow in again. It was the busy time of day on the busiest day of the week during one of the busiest weeks of the season, and when Castiel glanced around the shop, he found Dean tapping his foot impatiently while sitting at the table furthest from the counter. He felt bad that Dean actually seemed to need to talk to him today, but there was nothing he could do about the flow of customers, and Dean would just have to wait.

Another fifteen or so minutes passed before there was a lull in customers. He  
looked around again as a plump woman who had ordered one coffee, a biscuit and two sugar cookies finally left the shop, but Dean was nowhere in sight.

He deflated in disappointment. He couldn’t expect Dean to stick around waiting for him for eternity, but still. He had hoped.

He started tidying up in the short break he had at the moment, quickly sweeping the floors and collecting any trash that seemed to have accumulated since the day’s beginning. He picked up a napkin off of the counter and was about to throw it in the trash when he noticed something scrawled messily onto the back of it. It was a number. It just said:

CAS

TEXT ME. IT’S URGENT.

866-907-3235

There was no name given, but it could only have been Dean. He wondered what could have happened, and the fact that Dean really needed to speak with him only increased his guilt about not talking to him while he’d had the chance earlier.

He quickly walked to the front of the shop and switched the sign from ‘OPEN’ to ‘CLOSED,’ not knowing how long this would take. 

He took his phone out and quickly entered the number, but instead of texting, as the napkin had suggested, he hit send, calling him.

There was a click on the other end and then, “Hello?”

“Dean. Are you all right? What’s the matter?”

“Cas?”

“Yes. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Hey, are you free right now? I need to ask you something.”

“Yes, I’ve closed my shop. You said it wass urgent.”

“Alright, I’ll be right there.”

Dean hung up and Castiel closed his phone, biting his thumbnail nervously. He paced the shop, and by the time Dean arrived he had worked himself into a fair state of anxiety.

“Dean!” 

“Hey,” Dean sat down, but wouldn’t meet Castiel’s eyes. He was blushing and once again coughed to hide his evident embarrassment. “You didn’t have to close your shop, man. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it was urgent.”

“You’re my friend, Dean. I was worried.”

Dean just looked at him with sad eyes. “Well, anyway. You have nothing to worry about, I just have to ask you something. It’s kind of stupid, but it means a lot to me.”

Castiel paused. “Okay.”

Dean took a deep breath “Will you go to an amusement park with me?” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope he’d been carrying earlier, holding it up so Cas could see it.

He just stared at it, at a loss for words. _Well that was unexpected._

When Castiel failed to answer him, staring at the envelope with his mouth slightly agape, Dean pressed on. “I just really need to go. I can’t really explain, but it has to be this weekend or it won’t work. The parks all close soon for winter, and they reopen for Fright nights on Halloween weekend.”

Castiel stumbled over his words. “Sure, I mean, I would love to. Tomorrow?”

Dean winced. “Well, actually, I was hoping we could go right now.” Castiel’s eyes widened and Dean rushed to explain further. “I know, I know. It’s really short notice, but I need to do this. I would ask Sam, but he lives half way across this country and he’s not coming back anytime soon. Please, Cas? I can’t go alone.”

Castiel glanced between Dean’s earnest gaze and the envelope he still held aloft, containing what Cas assumed were the tickets Dean had already bought. 

What did he have to lose? Sure, he was really busy today, but the workday was halfway over already and no one had tried to come in in the past half hour or so since he temporarily closed to call Dean. 

“Okay. “

Dean’s face brightened. “Okay?”

“Of course,” he said, standing and heading into the kitchen to grab his coat. He heard Dean release a huge breath of relief behind him and wondered just why this was so important to him. He’d almost seemed desperate, and he’d been on the verge of begging, it seemed. If this was truly that important to him, there was no way Castiel could tell him no.

He pulled the trench coat on slowly, deep in thought, before grabbing his keys and returning to Dean’s side. They wordlessly left the shop, the sign still reading “CLOSED,” and Dean stepped up to a jet black, classic Chevrolet, crossing to the driver’s side. Castiel paused, his eyes grazing over its polished, sleek body appraisingly. “This is your car?”

Dean smiled lopsidedly, patting the top of the car fondly. “Oh yeah. She’s my baby.” He slid into the car and Castiel got in after him, settling against the cool, pliant leather. Dean revved the engine and rolled away from the curb.

***

As soon as they arrived at the park, Castiel's stomach growled; the air smelled like French fries and burgers, and he couldn't resist red meat. Dean paid for their tickets and bought them from a plump, middle-aged woman with flyaway red hair and a cheery disposition. Her name was Sharon and she had the biggest smile Castiel had ever seen. As they walked away she wished them a good night and winked suggestively, making Castiel feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Did something about her seem a bit off to you?" Dean asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Yes," Castiel agreed, glancing back over his shoulder to see the woman still smiling after them. "She was too happy."

Dean snickered, but dropped the discussion as soon as he caught sight of the nearest roller coaster. "Whoa." He stopped to stare at the monstrous structure. It was red and green and had several loops. Castiel saw him visibly swallow, and without taking his wide eyes off of the ride, he said, "So, uh... I guess we should ride that."

Castiel furrowed his brows. "Dean, we don't have to if you don't want to. There are plenty of other rides here." Dean still hadn't taken his eyes off of the thing.

"No. No, I want to ride every roller coaster here. I’ve only ever been on one before and that was years ago. I want to do this." He seemed to be trying to convince himself more than Cas.

Dean's face looked worried but his voice was firm. It was enough to let Castiel know that he was not going to let this go. He was serious. "Okay. Do you want to start with this one?"

Dean just nodded as he turned to Cas and let out a shaky breath. "Let's go."

The wait was thirty minutes, and Dean fidgeted the entire time, biting his nails, tapping his fingers on the railing and humming quiet classic rock songs under his breath.

When they got to the front of the queue they had to decide where to sit. Castiel immediately turned and headed for the middle, but Dean grabbed his wrist and tugged him the other way. "No, the front. We should sit in the front." Castiel didn't say anything, but obediently followed Dean into the longer line of people.

After five more minutes of waiting, it was their turn. Castiel got in first, and Dean came after, practically trembling and breathing through his mouth, trying to calm himself down. He shakily clipped his safety belt into place and tightened it as far as it could go.

"Dean, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. Just—it’s been a while." He smiled lopsidedly, trying to hide how scared he was, but Cas could see straight through it.

He was going to suggest that they get off, but the checker came by, and he didn't want to embarrass Dean in front of a pimply teenaged kid. He faced forward and stared at the red track, waiting for it to move.

Finally, they glided forward over the metal bars and he could hear Dean’s breath catch in his throat. He reached over and covered Dean's hand in his. Dean didn't respond at first but as they began their ascent, he gripped Cas' hand back tightly. "It's okay, Dean. Close your eyes and it will feel like flying." They were nearing the peak of the track. "Just close your eyes. It'll be fine. You’re fine. Hold on to me and there's nowhere for you to go. Hold on and close your eyes." Dean’s breathing slowed and he closed his eyes just before they entered free fall. As they fell, he used both hands to hold on to Cas, and he screamed.

Castiel closed his eyes, following his own advice. He wasn't scared of roller coasters, but he wanted to see if he was right. And he was. Gliding swiftly over the metal track, with nothing to ground him other than the strap of fabric across his chest and Dean’s hand entwined with his, his heart beating faster than it ever has before—it did feel like flying.

***

After five more coasters and several death drops, Dean declared he was hungry, much to Castiel's relief; he was beginning to get a bit shaky from lack of food, but hadn't wanted to say anything because Dean had finally started to get used to the rides.

They stopped at a nondescript stall carrying hotdogs, hamburgers, kettle corn, French fries, etc. All the junk food of an amusement park you could imagine in one place. Dean got a cheeseburger and fries, and Castiel asked for the same with a coke on the side.

"Damn, I forgot to get a soda," Dean said, turning around and heading back for the stall once they had already gotten a few feet away.

"Would you like to share mine? It's a coke."'

Dean paused. "Really?"

Castiel shrugged. "Sure. The line is too long anyway."

They found an empty bench under a large oak tree. The air had adopted that putrid amusement park smell, the one where it smells like trash and throw up all at the same time, but you get used to it so it doesn't make you crinkle up your nose as much as it would have were you anywhere else but there.

They ate in silence for a while, Dean picking through his fries first before attacking his burger. Then, he spoke. "Thanks for coming with me, Cas. It means a lot."

Castiel nodded and bit into his own burger, swallowing before asking, “So, this was the next thing on your list?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, kind of.” He sipped their coke and set it back down between them, and at Castiel’s inquiring look he explained further. “Well, I have, like, eighty items on my list, so I’m not really doing them all in order. But I’m gonna try to get most of them done by the end of this year.”

“Why this year?” Cas asked, taking another bite of his burger.

Dean pursed his lips a bit and ate a fry. “That’s just… my goal.” He shrugged, finishing off the last bite of his burger and covering his mouth to speak next. “As many as I can by January One. Preferably before then, but nobody’s perfect.” He chuckled and rolled up the foil wrapping from his burger.

“Sam told me you’ve already completed three.”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I’ve only got two: donate to charity and go to a coffee shop. I repainted my car, but that’s not on my list, that was just on my other, even _longer_ list of shit I need to do.” Dean shook his head and rubbed his hands together, then rubbed them over his eyes, stuffing them in his pockets and standing when he realized Cas was done with his food. He offered him a hand and pulled him up. “I still have a long way to go before I’ll even be close to finishing. I guess this will be number three, though.”

Dean looked up at the next rollercoaster, looming behind him dauntingly, and he swallowed. Maybe we should tackle a gentler ride first. We just ate.”

Dean nodded. “Good idea.”


End file.
